


High and Above

by Smilla



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: 2006, First Time, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilla/pseuds/Smilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Danny (almost) saves a cat, Martin (almost) saves Danny, and a kiss (definitely) saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High and Above

"You know, Danny, there are people paid to do… _this_." Martin sounded pissed off but only slightly out of breath, which in turn pissed Danny off to no end. Luckily he also sounded nearer than before.

"I do, but they would have been late." Danny tried to sound nonchalant even though the thought of being so far from the ground was making him sicker by the minute. It didn't help that Martin, climbing the damn tree with the sure-footedness of a goat, was making said damn tree shake.

"Could you, please, stop moving so fast?"

Was that a chuckle?

"Should have left the professionals to deal with it instead of always trying to be the freaking hero!" Nearby, definitely, maybe just a couple of branches away. Probably not hidden anymore by the thick leaves, and near enough that if Danny was so brave as to open his eyes he would see the smirk he was sure Martin wore proudly.

Such a pain in the ass being wrong!

"Why, Agent Fitzgerald," he said as mockingly as he could, given the embarrassing situation. "I thought you aimed to serve and protect!"

Lame, he knew it, but Danny couldn't be blamed for trying. "Didn't you see how terrified those poor girls were for their pet?" This time his voice ended in a definite high-pitch, all Martin's fault, anyway, who shook the branch directly under Danny with more force.

"And pretty."

"What?" And if Danny hadn't focused all his mental faculties on trying to stay attached to a very tiny branch that in no way should have been able to support his weight for so long, he would have been able to follow Martin's twisted logic. Luckily, Martin didn't wait to elaborate.

"The girls. They're pretty."

And that was a chuckle Danny couldn't pretend not to hear: Martin was chuckling and giggling. He would have rolled his eyes if he could open them without fear of puking on the pretty girls _a hundred miles below _.

"I'm sure if the owner of the cat were a cranky old lady, you wouldn't have been so fast in offering your services… especially since you _can't_ climb," Martin added with what Danny could only call sadistic pleasure.

And it was true, the girls were pretty and they had begged nicely, and Danny had wanted to piss Martin off, had stopped by the group of people gathered under a tall tree without telling Martin so that he had had to turn back once he had realized that Danny wasn't beside him anymore. Danny had also flirted overtly with the two girls -- sisters --, which he knew drove Martin crazy when he was in a bad mood, and judging by how much Martin had rolled his eyes, he had annoyed the hell out of him. He couldn't have done all that if the owner of the cat had been a _cranky old lady_.

No need to give Martin even more ammunition, anyway. "You are a cynical bastard," he said instead, and this time, Martin didn't even try to mask his mirth, his laugh loud, warming.

"You can open your eyes, now," Martin said, "and don't look down." He added that with such a patronizing tone that Danny was tempted to abandon the tight grip he had on the branch just to prove to Martin how wrong he was.

He dared to open his eyes, and as he had known, there Martin was, easy smile that for once touched his eyes. Danny immediately forgot how aggravating Martin had been, not only in the cat matter, when he had contradicted him at every suggestion and flat-out refused to climb up to rescue the cat. But he had been aggravating all night long, silent and withdrawn, had made a simple job of surveillance so hard that Danny had only wanted for it to end so he could go back home and forget the night had ever happened.

Now Martin was smiling and it looked good on him; weird that he hadn't realized how few and far between those full-faced smiles had become. Shame, because Danny could get used to the way they made Martin look younger, less serious. Approachable, in ways Danny had thought he'd stopped wishing for.

The thought was enough to sober Danny, but Martin had to have seen something, because the smile that had instigated Danny's unwanted reflections disappeared as fast as it had appeared.

"Hey Danny, you all right? You hurt somewhere?" So much concern not only in his voice, but in his eyes too, pupils larger and blue darker, too much for Danny, who couldn't stop looking. His silence was rendering Martin almost frantic in his climb up to Danny, his movement more purposeful.

"Hey man, you all right? You're acting weird…." And his hand suddenly gripped Danny's left shoulder, long fingers curling on the high ridge of the bone, strength in them, and a seeping warmth through the tiny layer of his cotton shirt that was even more distracting.

"Danny?" Almost pleading and enough to make Danny come back with a start, feeling only marginally guilty for worrying Martin. He looked down on Martin's face where the sun painted intricate patterns through the leaves, and he smiled. It was easier to go back to the usual banter than try to process feelings that ambushed him when he least expected it, feelings he thought long forgotten, so much that he sometimes even questioned whether they had been there in the first place. "You're the one scared by cats, Martin, or else I wouldn't find myself... here."

Stupid, and not by a long shot true, but enough for Martin evidently, because he smiled again, stretched toward Danny - defying the laws of physics in doing so - and said in a conspiratorial tone, "You are all right then," He took his hand from where it rested, leaving only the imprint of fingers and the vague memory of heat.

"And you don't need my help." He twisted gracefully and made as if to go back the way he had come. "Maybe I was hearing things before, I thought you were imploring me to come here and rescue you."

"I wasn't imploring!" Danny had to shoot back, not the smartest thing to say given that Martin was his only hope of getting back to the ground, finally on a surface that didn't shake. And indeed the tree was shaking again. "Would you, please, stop doing that?"

"Doing what? Ah, this…" And this time Danny could see exactly what Martin was doing, how easy it was to make it shake just gripping on of the larger branches and moving it with enough force.

"Martin…" He hoped his tone was warning enough.

"I can't hear you," The sonofabitch was going back down for real this time, and with the same speed he had climbed up.

"Fuck, Martin. Help me down from this damned green trap. Please?" he added, but only because he wanted to amuse Martin, maybe see that smile again.

And in fact, Martin stopped as soon as the word "please" left Danny's lips, twisted in a way Danny wouldn't have thought possible, moved up the trunk with a grace unfamiliar to Danny, finding holds where Danny couldn't see them, balancing in ways that made Danny see visions of a splattering death on the asphalt below; made him light-headed just looking at him.

There was more shaking, Martin disappearing in the corner of his eyes where the only possibility for Danny to track his movement was to twist, loosen his hold. Finally, Martin reappeared beside Danny, or better his arms did, one on each side of Danny's, Martin's chest pressed on his back, face so near to his own that when Martin spoke his breath blew warm air on Danny's ear, causing a shiver that had nothing to do with the early morning breeze.

"Don't worry big boy, I've got you!" And if it weren't Martin speaking, oblivious Martin, Danny could have sworn that his tone was …flirtatious?

Danny had to twist his head to see for sure, to reconcile the tone with the indelible image he had of Martin, and when he did, fear of falling forgotten - or better, replaced by the equally vertiginous sensation that he was on the verge of receiving a big surprise - Martin had bent his head to Danny's shoulder, chin almost touching it, and his eyes were so clear that Danny could see the gold in them.

Martin looked back, held his gaze for just a moment before looking down again, apparently focused on finding a way for Danny to go down, and Danny was left with the distinct impression of having seen something too hard for him to name.

It was too easy for Danny to fall for the promises that look held, too easy to blend together truth and wishful thinking, confusing them until Danny couldn't distinguish the first from the second. The truth of Danny having fallen for a brilliant smile and a cocky attitude he had mistaken for over-achievement, the truth of Martin being too straight, too uptight, too white-bread to take what Danny would have offered him without hesitation.

The hope that had burned high so many times only to leave in his mouth the taste of ashes, looks between them Danny had to dismiss as being only in his own eyes, touches too, and Martin backing down ever so slightly.

"You ready to go down?" Martin asked, note of disappointment in his voice that Danny maybe simply imagined, and Danny didn't have the time to search for a light-hearted reply to break the sudden sombre mood before Martin put his hand on Danny's, pressed his own fingers smoothly on Danny's curled ones, and that was a caress.

Martin uncurled Danny's fingers one by one, starting from the base to the top and when Danny's hand was free from his tight grip, he gently guided it to a different hold, lower and already more stable.

In a silence grave with unspoken words, he did the same with Danny's right hand, enticed a new shiver that travelled down Danny's spine. It made a slight tremor run through Danny, enough for Martin to feel it, pressed as he was against his back.

Martin said nothing but Danny saw that his hand was trembling.

Danny would have promised anything in that moment to find something appropriate to say, would have paid anything to be able to stop looking at Martin's hand as it rested on his own, to work some moisture into lips suddenly too dry; but all he could think of was the weight of Martin on his own back, the way Martin was taking his hand in his own, blocking it with his thumb while his fingers blindly tested the main branch for a hold.

When he did find what he was looking for, he left Danny's hand there, pressed on it with a mute command Danny understood immediately, then told Danny with a voice Danny was somehow expecting to be rougher, to move his right foot to the conjunction of two branches hidden by a bunch of green leaves. Danny wouldn't have seen the spot had he been looking for days.

After, he found a hold for Danny's left foot, which brought them on different levels, Martin higher, Danny lower. But Danny didn't even have the time to miss Martin as in mere seconds he was again behind him, chest to back, his position mirroring Danny's.

The distraction was enough for Danny to work up some courage. He twisted as far as the new hold allowed him so that he was resting on Martin's right arm, felt the muscles of his bicep hardening as if to better support him, but he was looking down and his face was hidden by the shade.

"Martin?" He had to ask, because for five years Danny had hoped for some sort of acknowledgement from Martin, and leaving this chance unexplored was not an option he was willing to consider.

Even at the cost of setting himself up for a new disappointment.

It took some time for Martin to look up, eternal seconds when all Danny could hear was the loud beat of his own heart, and when he did Danny did not have the time to process his expression, because Martin closed the narrow distance between them and took Danny's lips in his own.

Two thoughts passed through Danny's head before he opened his lips, inviting Martin inside: that Martin's lips where softer than he thought and that he hadn't been wrong after all, not in asking, not in climbing the tree.

Then he stopped thinking altogether, started his own exploration of Martin's mouth, was surprised when the vibration of a moan low in Martin's throat was echoed by one of his own.

Despite having a sudden bout of affection for the tree that had caused it, Danny wished he was in a better position to use one of his hands while kissing Martin, imagined pressing it to the back of Martin's head to increase the pressure, imagined tangling it on his hair to feel its texture.

He had always wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

He had to settle for what he was given. It worked anyway, the feel of Martin like a long-awaited friend, and Martin, _oh God_, Martin kissed with the same single-mindedness Danny had seen him apply to everything he did.

Meticulous, insisting on so much time for each spot that when he moved to a different one, Danny could still feel Martin's tongue on the previous. The simple thought of being the recipient of such a focus, of Martin having more places to explore, was enough to make Danny light-headed, blood pooling low, imagination running wild.

When Martin stopped, seemingly as unwillingly as Danny - lips parted and breath loud - he rested his head on the crook of Danny's shoulder, and Danny, panting, wished again he had both hands free so he could take Martin's chin in his hand, make him look at him, because the glimpse of Martin's face had made him want to look longer.

He let Martin take his time, made himself stay still and feel Martin's breath calming slowly above his own. When Martin raised his head, he looked straight into Danny's eyes, and Danny knew in that moment that Martin was telling the truth.

He smiled then, felt his own lips stretching wide in a grin he knew was very big; Martin smiled back, approvingly, nodded to himself as if having finally made a hard decision, then started giving directions faster.

It took only a handful of minutes for Martin to guide Danny to the ground, and when Danny finally stood on something solid, he had to stop himself from falling on his knees and gratefully kissing the dirt.

Martin looked amused while Danny went up and down, stretched arms and legs cramped for having taken an unnatural position for too long. There was affection in his eyes and something like triumph he couldn't hide, and Danny asked himself if maybe he too had been blind, oblivious in worse ways than Martin.

Martin bent to tie his shoes while looking at Danny from the corners of his eyes, and only then Danny realized that they were alone under the tree. The girls and the small group of people who had been witness to his graceless begging had disappeared.

Most of all, he realized that he didn't have a cat in his hand. He looked at Martin again, was there on the verge of asking, when he saw that Martin was laughing softly under his breath, back shaking with the effort of holding it back.

He straightened, tried, without success, to stop laughing, and he said, "The cat, Danny? The cat climbed back on his own not five minutes after you started climbing up.

"I would have told you, but I didn't want to spoil your chance of showing what a white knight you are!"

Danny tried, tried very hard to be angry at Martin for letting him make a fool of himself, but in the end, Danny reasoned, Martin could laugh and tease and give him a hard time for the rest of his life.

In the end, it didn't matter what Martin thought: he had won.

***

The big white truck stopped with a groan and a shake. Danny climbed down with a flourish and a smile, waved to Martin, who at the moment was climbing from his own car a few feet behind.

"Here we are," Danny said, ignoring the usual morning crankiness of Martin. "Time for all the time you spend in the gym to pay off," he said loudly, though Martin still probably hadn't heard.

There was no fun in making fun of Martin so early in the morning, so Danny walked behind the truck and unfastened the latch with every intention of starting to unload the precious cargo. Box after box, stacked in perfect order – Martin's doing the night before – all their cumulative possessions, mixed together according to Martin's very weird sense of classification.

It was a sight that stopped Danny for a moment, spoke of the magnitude of what they were doing, of what he was allowing himself to do. All the roads they had walked, all the climbing and the slipping, the many moments where giving up had felt less painful, when they had been too tired to see the reward at the end, doubted its existence.

Danny shook his head, no sense in spoiling the perfect morning and the perfect mood questioning himself, and looked behind his shoulder to see what Martin was doing. He had to grin when he saw that Martin had walked some steps to the left of their new property, where the tall tree was waving proudly in the morning breeze.

\--


End file.
